


Memorial

by Kayani_Iriel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Codes & Ciphers, M/M, Memorials, Past Loves, feels trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: Lion's Rest has a public memorial wall for all the SI:7. Mathias decides it's time for Flynn to see the real SI:7 memorials, at least his.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef (Past)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 59





	Memorial

**Author's Note:**

> The official Stormwind memorial is actually based off a real thing, the CIA Memorial Wall in Langley, VA, USA. The SI:7 memorial came to me in my dreams, like all of my plotbunnies do.

A crisp autumn breeze ruffled the edge of his greatcoat as he and Mathias Shaw walked, hand in hand, through Lion’s Rest. Leaves swirled crunched under foot, distracting from the sound of pounding.

He glanced over at a simple memorial they had never visited. A man in laborer's clothes was hammering a small object to the marble face. Curious, he altered their path, heading that way. He felt his lover’s steps slow, falling behind. As he got closer, he saw a stylized lion’s head, in a neat line with more. Row upon row of them covered the pale facade.

He thought about doing the math, but decided not to. There were obviously a lot of dead. He searched for a marker, something to indicate who these people had been, but saw nothing.

“SI:7 operatives, fallen in the lines of combat.”

He peered over his shoulder, realizing Mathias stood several paces back, with only his face turned towards Flynn Fairwind. The big man took one last glance at the memorial, and hurried back, taking holding him close. His spy buried his face in his chest, a momentary public display.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t know.”

With a sigh, Mathias pulled back. “These aren’t new. With the fourth war, we were simply too busy to update the memorial. I just hadn’t counted on being here while it was happening.”

“Must be twice as bad for you.”

The started walking, towards Old Town, towards home. “It is, and it isn’t. Just hit me harder today. Maybe because I’m reminded that for every operative we lose, there’s likely someone who loved them, who will mourn their passing.”

“Like me,” he said, squeezing the older man’s hand.

“Like you.”

They walked the streets in silence, Flynn lost in his thoughts. Loss never got easier, each one a fresh wound on the soul. And Mathias must have so many wounds.

Instead of turning up the street to their apartment, the redhead tugged him towards SI:7. At Flynn’s raised eyebrows, he said, “I have something to show you.”

They entered the main building, where the spymaster ducked into his office while he waited in the hall. He emerged a few minutes later, a lit lantern in one hand. Wordlessly, Flynn followed him up flights of stairs, and down a narrow hallway.

“Hold this.” The lantern was handed to him. Mathias pressed something hidden, and a panel slid away in the ceiling, a ladder dropping noiselessly down.

“The attic,” he offered by explanation.

“Lots of work for something no one uses.”

Mathias shrugged. He scaled the rungs nimbly, then reached down for the lantern. Flynn handed it up, then climbed, much slower than the older man. He ducked as he stood in the space, but needn’t have bothered; the center peak was well over his head.

“The stonemasons gave us a lot of room when they built this place.” Mathias beckoned him to follow, and they traveled to the far end. The large wooden beam supporting the roof ended in a sturdy stone wall, seamlessly joined in place. “We never had need of the attic. When I was a young agent, I liked to come up here and think.”

He turned, facing Flynn, and took a deep breath. “SI:7 has it’s own way of memorializing agents. Once you pass training, you’re granted the right to leave a message, etched into the very buildings. Most do it right away; as you’re aware, few of us make it to retirement age.”

The Kul Tiran wrinkled his brow. “So you what, hide a letter behind a loose stone?”

“Nothing like that. The only papers we keep for agents are wills, and only if they lack family to keep them. No, we mark the buildings directly.” He gestured overhead.

The big man looked up. There, along the beam, were a series of marks. He squinted, trying to make them out. Mathias helpfully lifted the lantern up, giving him a better view.

They appeared to be nothing more than wayward scratches, lines and crosses and tickmarks, but too orderly for that. “Code?”

“A cipher, yes. Everyone uses one of their choosing, and never shares it. It’s an unwritten rule that you never try to decipher another agent’s message. They’re meant to be memorials, not knowledge.”

“And they’re everywhere?”

“All over the buildings. You just need to know where to look. Lots of agents like the cellars, under the stairs, and door frames. I came up here.”

Flynn traced the scratches with a finger. “So if you’re killed on a mission, all that’s left is a lion’s head marker and marks on a beam?”

“Yes. It’s a lonely business. Was a lonely life, until you came along.”

He stared at the slim man standing by him, ran a hand down his cheek.

“So why up here?”

That earned him a sigh. The lantern shifted, lighting the wall. “Edwin.”

Flynn examined it. Plain white stone, cut uniformly, stacked and mortared in place was his first impression. It was quality work, but he knew there had to be more. He inspected each piece, and then he saw. Top block, next to the beam. Next to the message.

EVC and below it, offset, MS. Nothing else, no hearts, or circles, no ornate script. Just initials, chipped into the stone with a steady hand, lightly. Had he not been looking closely, he’d have missed it entirely.

“Oh, Mattie.”

Mathias chuckled. “You know, he’s the only other one who ever called me that. It hurt, when you first did.”

“Shall I stop?”

“No. It’s fine. I’m fine. I wasn’t, for a long time, but it’s passed.”

Flynn looked at his lover. His face was sad, but he stood upright, steady and strong. The urge to reach out was almost overwhelming, but he resisted. There were ghosts he dared not disturb here, standing between them.

“Hold this for me? I need to do something.”

He took the lantern, and at Mathias’s urging, held it high, so the ciphered message was visible again. The spy took a small, simple dagger out of a pocket, and began scratching away at the beam. After a moment, he realized Mathias was writing an additional line, below the original. He stayed quiet, letting him work in peace.

Finally, the older man stepped back, surveying his marks. “That will do.” In a fluid motion he moved, impaling the dagger into the beam, at the bottom of the message.

“An old gift.”

He understood. Together they crossed the attic to the gap in the floor. Mathias slipped down first, then Flynn, after handing the lantern down. Once down, he watched the ladder disappear back up.

“I’ll show you some of the messages on the way out,” The spymaster said, as they moved down the hall. “That way you’ll know what to look for.”

“No need. I’ve seen enough tonight.”

Neither man spoke as they returned the lantern to the office, and walked back to their apartment. He kept his hand in the spy’s, holding tightly, but didn’t dare do any more. Occasionally, Mathias would glance over and smile, or squeeze his hand.

Once back in the flat, he built up the fire, chasing away the evening’s chill. The redhead sat at a small desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. He left him alone, not sure how to take his lover showing him that particular piece of his heart.

“Flynn? Can you bring me the copy of _Garona_ I keep in the bedroom bookshelf?” the older man asked, not looking up from his task.

Wordlessly, he went and retrieved the book. Mathias shook a small half sheet of parchment from it. “Thank you.”

He turned to go to their overstuffed armchair, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. “Wait. I need you to do something for me. It’s important.”

He turned back, seeing vibrant green eyes gazing up at him. “Anything for you, love.”

“Decipher this, please?”

How could he say no? He took the seat when it was vacated, looking at the paper. It was the cipher from SI:7, Mathias’s old message and new. He he had to appear as puzzled as he felt.

“You know I’m not good at explaining myself. I think this might do it better than I can. I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done.”

With that, he slipped away, leaving Flynn alone in the small room. The Kul Tiran turned back to the paper, studying it thoughtfully. The cipher was evenly spaced out, with plenty of room to write. He looked at the key, a nearly translucent piece of parchment, and opened the book. Referencing the necessary page and paragraph, he found the right word and began to work.

After a false start or two, he got the hang of it. Had he known about all the pieces, he could have decoded it on his own. Not that he would’ve tried, knowing it was Mattie’s private thoughts. He couldn’t betray the man he loved in that way.

At last, after a couple scratched out letters, he had his answer.

_E,_

_I miss you terribly._

_But, it’s time I moved on._

_M_

Flynn rubbed at his eyes, feeling moisture. His heart ached for his lover. He carefully put the cipher key back into _Garona_ , then threw the text into the fire, watching it burn. Once there were only ashes, he turned to the bedroom. His Mathias was waiting, and he wasn’t about to let him down.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter now! [@IrielKayani](https://twitter.com/IrielKayani)


End file.
